


Resurrection

by DoveOnShoulder



Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics)
Genre: Background Relationships, Ethical Dilemmas, Family Bonding, Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 06:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoveOnShoulder/pseuds/DoveOnShoulder
Summary: The COMMONS project has been kept as a secret from Donald for years. But Scrooge understands, one day he has to speak the truth to his nephew.





	Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> This story happens in the alternative universe roughly in the early 21st century. There's not much about ships, but more about conflict of values. 
> 
> Cast:  
> (21) Dr. Gyro Gearloose – scientist working for Scrooge McDuck, specialized in mechanical and electrical engineering  
> (34) Dr. Lyla Lee – scientist haired by Gyro, specialized in artificial intelligence  
> (77) Scrooge McDuck – Donald’s uncle, local tycoon  
> (65) Emily Quackfaster – Scrooge’s secretary  
> (68) Prof. Ludwig von Drake – scientist, Donald’s uncle, Matilda’s husband  
> (71) Matilda von Drake – Donald’s aunt, Scrooge’s younger sister  
> (78) Flintheart Glomgold – Scrooge’s business rival  
> (32) Donald Duck – local top blower, works as a security guard in Duckburg museum

“Yeah,” the young man behind the chair closed the instruction manual, “I guess that’s about it.” He breathed out a sign of relief, “So, um, welcome to join us, Dr. Lee!”  
Lyla took the offered hand, and smiled back to the young man. He looked more stressful than she was.  
Dr. Gyro Gearloose got up from his desk, “I hope I didn’t ask any bizarre question.” He said it almost like an apology, “My father always says it’s hard to follow my thought.” Then he took a drink, mumbled to himself: “It finally finished!”  
Lyla laughed, “That sounds more like what I should say! You have done it well. Really.” Then she added: “Your questions were challenging but not harsh. Is this your first time to be the interviewer?”  
The young man swallowed down the liquid, “Yes. I just take over the project from Professor Ludwig von Drake. When Mr. McDuck asked me to be the interviewer…” He shook his head, unfolding his palms at the front, “I totally had no idea what to do.”  
Lyla grinned, “You are great. I can’t imagine myself being at your position.”  
“Thanks, it’s very kind of you.” He blushed, keeping his hands in his pockets. “So, would you like me to, um, show you around and introduce you to our project? We can also do it tomorrow if you want.”  
“Sure,” She nodded, “if it doesn’t take you too much time.”  
The interviewer looked satisfied. “Right. We’ll begin from the biology lab.”  
The whole place turned out to be much larger than she thought. The biology lab was half a mile away from the main building.  
“Oh, yes,” Gyro suddenly said, “If you are waiting for an important phone call, or…”  
“Thank you. They have told me the area is blocked from outside signals.”  
“Yeah, I guess they would have.” Gyro awkwardly muttered, scratched the back of his neck. Lyla found he’s very cute, and surprising young as the chief scientist.  
“Have you been working for Mr. McDuck for a long time?” She curiously asked.  
The young man nodded. “Eight years, since I won an YSA.”  
Young Scientist Award, she calculated, for teenagers between 13 to 15.  
“But I have known him since I was a child,” he continued, “my grandpa was working for him 40 years ago. His project is the prototype of ours.” He frowned, “I think.”  
Lyla looked genuinely surprised: “I thought it would be impossible to map down neuron connection pattern 40 years ago.”  
“Well, not at whole brain level.” Gyro admitted, “But it was not for medical propose. So they didn’t need to pin down individual axon connection.”  
“So what’s the result?”  
“Stolen.” Gyro signed, taking on a far-away look. “Otherwise it wouldn’t take so many years to finish COMMONS.”  
Lyla was not sure if there was something in his voice, so she silently followed his step. They walked pass the glass window as Gyro explained to her: “So, what we are trying to do is to recreate neural network. Professor Ludwig managed to retrieve enough data from a deceased patient, that means we can re-build her brain using electric signals.”  
That was the information Lyla already had, but with Gyro’s expectant eyes looking at her, she commented: “That almost sounds like resurrection.”  
“Oh, yes, that’s brilliant, isn’t it?” Gyro’s face lit up with excitement, “It would be a cinch to understand neurological disorders once we have the model.”  
“But,” Lyla frowned, “won’t that be a problem for that patient’s family?”  
“Ah.” Gyro thought about the question for a while, “I think Mr. McDuck is aware of the situation.”  
\--  
“Mr. McDuck, you must understand the situation.” Scrooge McDuck showed up from the end of the corridor, followed by his security officer eagerly arguing with him. Being at his 70’s, the skinny little man showed no sign of exhaustion, even his young associate found it hard to catch up with his pace. To his credit, Goldman was persistent on his argument, and never afraid of saying “no” to his boss. They finally stopped in front of the executive assistant desk.  
“Fine.” Scrooge signed, turned to his secretary, “Miss Quackfaster, ask Gyro to see me this Friday.” He took a squint at his security officer, added, “You should come as well, Goldman. Tell him what you think.”  
“My pleasure, boss.” Goldman nodded, a smile of victory lit up on his face.  
After he left, Scrooge muttered a curse while fumbled around the pocket for his key. “That lad thought security was the only thing I need to worry about.” He mumbled to himself, hung up his hat and walked to his seat.  
Exactly three minutes later, Miss Quackfaster knocked on the door. As usual, she brought her note, a fresh pot of nutmeg tea he urgently needed, and… an umbrella?  
“I have read the financial report on the flight.” He started before she talked, “We have problems, but we can solve them. Tell Gould I will talk to him.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“And rearrange the meeting with my solicitors next Thursday, I need to see a client.”  
“I have written it down, sir.”  
“And…” he paused, “alright, I think that’s it. Anything to say?”  
“Um, how’s the trip?” She tentatively asked.  
He immediately realised this woman was avoiding the question. Being as his secretary for over 40 years, she knew better than wasting time on greeting. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, and decided to let it go. “What does that mean?” He pointed to the umbrella.  
“Professor von Drake sent it this morning, with a note saying that you seemed to be interested in how Markov was killed, so he asked FBI to send you this model.” She put it on the desk.  
He stared at it, found it hard to digest all the information, “so this is the murder weapon used to kill, hmn, who?”  
“Markov, sir. Not the same one, but an illustration model, as I understand.”  
A long pause.  
“Why?”  
The question seemed to puzzle his secretary, “uh, what are you referring to, sir? Why didn’t they send you the real one?”  
He knocked on the desk, “why did you show me this?”  
“ ‘Everything sent from Ludwig must be shown to me.’ Your order, Mr. McDuck.”  
“Yes, my order,” he huffed, “thank you for reminding!”  
His face was already buried in his hand. He couldn’t even remember what they were talking last time he met him. That’s six months ago before the government dragged Ludwig into a confidential research project. On the other hand, however absent-minded and wicky-wacky as he was, that man was till the brain behind his most valuable project.  
He vividly remembered on that day a mad scientist broke into his office, whose first sentence almost gave him a heart attack: “I’m here to ask you to zaffe mein vife, your zisder Matilda.” He never expected that would be the only occasion in the next six years when he saw this light-hearted chap being so determined and serious.  
“What else?” He returned to the reality, “there’s something important, I can sense that.”  
“Eh, yes.” Miss Quackfaster stepped back a bit, “an…unexpected news.”

“Good lord! What is it?” An intern asked her supervisor, “an earthquake?”  
“Oh, it’s just the boss.” The senior officer threw a glance at the ceiling, “he probably had a bad news from his secretary. Now, do you want me to show you where to find the broadcast room?”  
\--  
“Glomgold Industry recently announced a new partnership with the Department of Defense…”  
Donald Duck turned off the radio. After passing through a few farmlands and deserted houses, he had reached the end of the road. A group of buildings was located on the edge of the wasteland, exposing to the sunlight and fierce wind. Here, thousands of scientists, engineers and mechanics were working for COMMONS, Computational and Mathematical Modeling of Neural System.  
Donald stopped the car in front of the gate, wondering if he pressed on the brake too forcefully than necessary. He rolled down the car window, and reported his name to the speaker: “Donald Duck.” The speaker buzzed for a few seconds before fell into silence. Donald frowned, doubted if his voice was correctly recognized. It’s annoying enough for uncle Scrooge to call him like this. He needed to have a serious talk with that old slavedriver and let him understand he actually had a job, and needed a real explanation to take a day off. He couldn’t just order around and expected Donald to put down everything and run for his errand. Then again, did uncle Scrooge ever listen to him? Forget about it.  
A blare of the megaphone burst upon his ears: “Hello? Donald, could you hear me?”  
“Yeah yeah yeah, just let me in.” He tapped on the wheel.  
“Sure. I just want to say we are updating our security system so the computer doesn’t recognize your voice…here we go, the door should open now.”  
So he waited.  
Nothing happened.  
“Gyro, I think you may need to ask someone to open the door for me.” He finally said it. Was it his bad luck? It must be his bad luck.  
“So it’s not working? Hmn, I wonder…let me just try this one.”  
The gate began to move slowly. Donald restarted the engine, intriguingly peered into the vast land appearing on the horizon. Streets, flats and lawns. He turned around looking for Gyro, until spotted a figure walking downstairs from the control room.  
“Sorry for the delay, we are sort of undermanned at the moment.” He apologised, wiped out some sweat from the forehead. “I have been running around for quite a few hours.”  
“Hey, why not take a seat? I can drive you to the place.” Donald patted on the car door, “so where are we going?”  
“Thanks, Don.” Gyro took the passenger seat, and began to adjust Donald’s GPS, “we are going to the Nile Building. I will connect your GPS with COMMONS’ network so we won’t get lost.”  
Donald handed him the water bottle, he took it, but didn’t drink. No one spoke then.  
Donald had a strange feeling that his friend was avoiding looking at him. Gyro was not a talkative person, but they always had a lot to chat. Needless to say he still needed someone to explain to him what’s going on here, uncle Scrooge never told him much about this project.  
So he asked, rather tentatively: “so what are you doing here, exactly? I heard the project is for medical purpose.”  
“Yeah, it’s a… well, we are developing a droid used for experiment model, to understand neurological disorders and… these sort of things.” Gyro shrugged and dropped his head, suddenly found the seat belt very interesting.  
Donald shook his head, it’s too hard to understand scientists and their work. He still remembered that time when uncle Ludwig drank out a whole bottle of diluted bacterial culture to prove his theory. “I don’t understand why uncle Scrooge asked me to come here, I know nothing about neuroscience.”  
“I believe Mr. McDuck wants you to have a look of our prototype droid. We got some really good testing results. It’s very promising.”  
Donald took a glance at him, noticing his voice began to become excited, as other times when he talked about his inventions. “Ok, that makes sense. But if he wants to know how does it work, why not come here himself?”  
“Umn, actually…” Gyro appeared not to know how to put it, “that was the original plan. Then, uh, our A.I. refused to see him…”  
It took him a second to get it, then Donald burst into laughter like crazy: “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I knew it! I knew it! Even his own product knows what kind of cold-hearted miser he is! This is just too good! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”  
“Watch the road, Donald!”  
“Sorry!”

It didn’t take them long to arrive at the Nile Building. Donald spared a glance at the building, just wanted to make a comment, but Gyro was already off the car. The young scientist didn’t say a word as they went upstairs, walking past the corridor, until they finally stopped in front of a frosted glass door.  
“Donald,” he took a breath, placed one hand on the glass door, “she’s waiting for you. Now it’s the time.”  
“Wait, what?” Donald frowned, “what’s that supposed to mean? Are you really Gyro? Is it…”  
But Gyro already opened the door.  
-TBC-


End file.
